


Bugger it

by ReePer



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-24 21:02:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12020934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReePer/pseuds/ReePer
Summary: Harry was bored.  Not in an average spent-too-long-on-holiday bored, but more of a let’s-stalk-the-neighbors sort of bored. He has been sentenced to house arrest, courtesy of Morgana and her entire staff at the medical bays of well-meaning (but clearly uneducated) nurses and doctors.  And therapists.  And the R+D department.  And Merlin.  And Arthur.  Bugger them all.





	Bugger it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [technopat3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/technopat3/gifts).



> I hope you like it, I have the rest of the story sketched out if you enjoy it/prefer a closed ending  
> Harry and Merlin have an open relationship, meaning they can have other partners separately or together, but they always keep each other informed! No cheating here :)  
> Also, there is a shit-ton of corrections I need to make. So sorry, but I will get it in !

Harry’s body had been trained from an early age to wake up without the aid of an alarm clock, so finding himself waking at 0200 instead of 0400 as he normally would was a bit disconcerting.  Not enough to warrant a trip into Avalon, mind you.  Just something to note.  For the first two mornings, he had chalked it up to a lack of physically exhausting activities coupled with recently coming out of the coma, but by the third he was no longer so sure.  Merlin hadn’t been home overnight yet due to Bors’s mission getting into its final stages, taking power naps in his office and checking in with Harry via his glasses during the day, and had also let Harry know that none of the alarms within the house had been set off, so Harry wasn’t sure what had woken him.  On the third night, he made sure to do as much physical therapy as his body would allow him (and perhaps a few reps more).  He found himself falling asleep much easier that night, but not a deep sleep.  In the twilight between his sleep states, Harry found himself cataloguing.  First, he could identify his sheets by their texture, and smell.  Then his pillow, it was just the right amount of cool near the edge where his hand lay while warm beneath his ear and cheek.  His breathing was tempered and even, very proportional to where he should be.  Something, though, was preventing him from falling asleep.  He’d spoken to Merlin a few hours ago, so he knew not to expect him to come home.  He hadn’t used the oven tonight, opting to indulge himself in takeaway, so he hadn’t left the oven on.  There was the sound of an occasional car passing the entrance to the mews every few minutes, but even that sounded normal.   Why couldn’t he sleep?

Two and a half days (and four bags of crisps, seven romcoms, and five takeaway containers) later, Harry was finding himself bored with everything, himself included.  He’d tried to wank himself to sleep out of boredom several times, but kept giving up for lack of energy and motivation.  He was turning into one of those old biddies that stayed abed all day, only to come out and gossip, he thought to himself.  He still had at least three weeks out of the field, and he hadn’t come up with any sort of plan to occupy himself.  (Binge-watching all those hyped-up TV shows was an absolutley horrid idea, Merlin, the plots were dismal, his favorite characters were killed off in increasingly unbelievable ways, and several of the series were stopped after only a few seasons.  Without resolutions!)  He’d resolved to try another self-pitying wank session when he discovered he’d emptied the lube.  

Huffing out a deep breath, Harry rolled himself over to retrieve his glasses from the coffee table and clicked in a comm link to Merlin.  

“Harry, I swear, if ye are not on fire…” Merlin greeted him.

“What if I were?” he asked, if for no reason other than keeping Merlin on the line a bit longer.  Boredom was not his forte.

“Harry,” Merlin growled, “I cannae just  _ Bors for feck’s sake, ye cannae blow them up, put the bloody grenades down!  This is subterfuge!  BE SNEAKY!  _ Drop everything because ye’re feeling bored at home. Please tell me ye had a reason for this?”

Harry schooled his face into one of perfect innocence (one never knew when Merlin was peeking in) before answering, “I’ve run out of lube, I was wondering if perhaps you still had a stash somewhere?”  There was a beat of silence, and Harry found himself imagining Merlin’s face turning deepening shades of red from his side.  Not that he would, Merlin was ever the professional at work, and talk of sex tended to bore the man, after Harry had wrung out all shyness after their first few fiery years together as roommates, but still.  One should have goals.

“Check the hall loo.  And don’t call me back unless you’re on fire.  .  .  After you put the fire out.” Merlin disconnected the line abruptly. 

“Well, that was quite rude.” Harry said aloud.  He lay on the sofa for a few more minutes, debating whether it was worth it or not to actually expend the energy required to get up, before boredom won out and he stretched his legs out, using their momentum to roll himself painfully to standing.  The aches provided by that action alone had him debating remaining in place, but he could use a trip to the loo for other reasons, as well, so he headed off.  

As per his usual routine, he nodded to Mr. Pickle as he dropped his trousers, and sat for a few minutes, waiting for his body to empty itself of the takeaway from that morning.  While he sat, he searched under the vanity to see if Merlin’s tube was in fact beneath.  It was not.  And they were low on tissue.  Damn.  

Harry finished his call with nature, and washing up, and then looks at Mr. Pickle again, tilting his head to one side in consideration.  “Well, Mr. Pickle, where do you think I should look?  Hall closet?  Upstairs loo?  I suppose so, good call, sir.”   He heads up the stairs carefully (Merlin would probably give him hell for the muscle strain, but that’s part of the reason Merlin didn’t take the time off with him, isn’t it?  Much less stressful to not watch him encourage himself to go further than he is currently supposed to be pushing himself.  Not like he’s running a marathon, though, he’s got something to do now, and he’s gone to task.  

He’s decidedly not huffing out his breath when he reaches the top of the stairs, and if he takes a moment to contemplate the universe and its mysteries before toddling over to the closet door, no one has to know besides himself.  Maybe he’ll order one of those chair-lift systems he saw on an infomercial last night, just to get Merlin’s goat.  Not because he can’t do the stairs, purely for satirical purposes.

A brief search of the linen closet turns up nothing, and nothing under the sink, either.  Not even any of his usual lotions, so Merlin must not’ve done any shopping while Harry had been on his extended-mission in Bolivia, or during Harry’s three weeks in Avalon.  The only problem is, now Harry’s plans are dashed unless he wants to try stroking himself dry which, to be honest, holds little appeal for him.  Merlin’s preference for scented lubes has given him a bit of a preference for fruity scents during any sort of sex and, short of scandalising his neighbors by fondling himself in the garden near the lemongrass (which is, obviously, out of the question), he feels at a loss for how to proceed.  

He returns to the living room slowly (the stairs did not make him dizzy, thank you very much) and sends a text to Merlin letting him know the sad state of affairs.  Merlin replies almost immediately with a link to an online store,  [ www.behindcloseddoorssupply.com ](http://www.behindcloseddoorssupply.com/) , which takes him to a product ordering page for one of Harry’s favorite lubes, a lemon-flavoured concoction.  As he’s adding it to the online shopping basket, he gets another incoming message from Merlin.

_ They have discrete same-day shipping available.  Just, please, do not go overboard here.  I know you think you know better than Morgana on this, but I truly do not want to have to tell Arthur you need additional time off for ‘severe wanking injuries.’ _

Harry elects to ignore the implied age jab, and proceeds to place an order for a tube of the lemon as well as a few new toys to try out (even someone as tenured in honeypots as Harry is bound to find something new once every so often, and it never hurts to be well-skilled in bedroom trinkets when going in), and requests the same-day shipping for what amounts to almost double the purchasing price, but he figures it’s worth it to relieve this endless boredom.  A small message prompt appears letting him know that his order should arrive in about ninety minutes, so Harry takes a moment to clear off his mess near the couch and then showers before dressing himself in clean pyjamas and a dressing robe and slippers before heading back down to wait for his delivery.  He checks his email again to see that they’ve sent him a link to track his shipment, along with a note:

_ Dear valued customer,  _

__ _ We thank you for your recent purchase with us, which you should receive shortly.  Please note, to protect your privacy, we will deliver your order via a BCDSupply box or flat-bed truck.  These trucks also deliver from our sister building materials company, and will use the same packaging.  If you have any questions about your order or its delivery, please do not hesitate to contact us!  Thank you again, and have fun! _

Harry arches an eyebrow at this (is this why Merlin orders supplies for repairs all the time? So that he can have their sex toys delivered to work, right under Chester’s nose?), but takes his tablet with him to the foyer to wait for the delivery, which should be there within 15 minutes if the small truck icon indicator is accurate.  He hears an engine slow to a stop outside the mews, and steps out onto the stoop to accept his delivery, but is stunned to see the driver is not coming to his side of the development.  Rather, he is speaking with an attractive barefoot young strawberry-blonde man (in good lord man, cut-off jeans?) with an impressive physique in a doorway almost directly opposite Harry’s.  Harry doesn’t recognize the man, but he watches him accept a small package from the driver and sign for it before he turns around to presumably re-enter his home, but sporting a fetching shade of pink to his face.   Harry smiles, and wonders what the man could have ordered to make him blush so prettily, but his ruminations are interrupted when the delivery man approaches Harry with his own box.  

He accepts his package, and signs, tipping the delivery driver for showing up early (something he’s never bothered to do himself, but can appreciate in others).  When he looks up, however, the man from across the way has disappeared.

Harry tucks his package under his arm, and heads back inside, already spinning a few fantasies of a certain neighbor with thighs bulging out of his ripped pantaloons swinging from a crow’s nest, as if in one of his romance novellas’ cover art.  Just before the door clicks shut, he hears a gravelly, “Oh my god, YES!”  and decides that perhaps he has just found a way to keep himself occupied during this leave.

Chap 2

The previous night had been filled with several lusty images of possibilities that could have fit into the small box in the man’s hands, and Harry gleefully catalogued the various tools he had been exposed to over the years to imagine what a man of that build could be doing overnight. He’d pictured everything from the relatively tame images of his neighbor’s arms flexing with restraint while he paged through a Kama Sutra, to more racy images of the man’s surely toned thighs (which he’d discerned through those terrible excuses for shorts) crunching beneath his body as he fingered himself open in preparation for a large set of Ben Wa balls (which may or may not have been proportionate to Harry’s own set), to his personal favorite of a tub of boy butter rubbed over his entire body before being handcuffed to a bed, displaying all of his delicious curves for Harry’s personal perusal.  Harry smiled into his tea as he took a sip.   _ That _ particular fantasy had finally brought him over the edge last night, imagining the slick he used on himself had been left overs after torturing the restrained man. 

His glasses pinged from his pocket , and he placed his tea back on the toastie before reaching for them slowly.  It was around 05:30, time for Merlin’s check-in.  No one else would “bother” him on this leave, besides.  They’d be too afraid (and rightfully so) that he’d come back before the medical team had cleared him.  Seeing the small indicator in the corner of his field of vision to indicate Merlin had connected them on a private line, Harry thought it might be safe to bring up the episode from yesterday.

“Darling, how are you?  Having fun, i hope?” 

_ Sigh _ “Harry, thank you for not blowing everything you come across to bits.”

“Ah, so it’s Bors who has been keeping you in the office?”  He stood to place his plate from his breakfast in the sink, and took his tea back in hand as he moved to the foyer to get his newspaper.  A quick perusal would let him know the state of the world that Kingsman allowed citizens to know.  

“Aye, Harry, but I could come home, if you needed me to.”  Harry hadn’t even opened his mouth to deny it before Merlin rushed to add, “Or even if you just wanted me to, Harry.  I know that you are more than capable of spending the recuperation alone, but I really could have one of the techs take over for me for a few hours, or a night if you just would like a change of pace.  Perhaps we could take an easy walk to that patisserie you prefer?”

“Actually, darling, there is something I have found to keep myself occupied for a bit, at least.”  Harry was sliding his loafers on by the door, and Merlin must be looking through his visual channel, as well, because his next words were questioning.

“Harry, please tell me you’re not off on some half-arsed sojourn that could exacerbate your wounds?  Morgana would have both our heads if you end up coming back into the ward.  It’s hard enough to deal with her ‘I know you’re enabling him’ face here in the office as it is with you at home.”

“No, nothing so intense as that, dear heart.  I just realized that we have a new neighbor in number 14, and was thinking about getting to know him, and perhaps trying for a soothing walk in the Gardens.” 

“Oh?” Merlin responded, and Harry could barely blink between that and the soft sounds of Merlin’s tapping away at one of his computers.  “So Dean Baker is striking your fancy?  I’ve got to say, Harry, I knew you had varied tastes, but I’ve never imagined you’d go for the bulldog-faced sort of bloke.  And a paunchy middle-aged one, at that.”

Harry coughed a bit on the sip of tea he had taken.  “Pardon?” he choked out, and was surprised by a surly-faced mug shot of a man appearing in his field of vision.  

“This is Dean Anthony Baker,who, as of two weeks ago, is the new owner of number 14.  I had vetted him when I was flagged that a new resident would be moving in, but he only had a few petty arrests for himself, not much of a record although he has been to court a few times for questionable landlord practices.  Seems like a few of his known associates keep themselves a bit busy, but Mr. Baker here has been out of the system for the last two years or so, since the birth of his daughter.”

“A changed man, then?  Although this is most definitely not the man I saw yesterday.  The man I saw had to be in his early to mid twenties, baby-faced with an athlete’s build.  Mop of ruddy-blonde hair, seemed to be about 1.7 metres, possibly 1.8?”

The files and photos shifted quickly about Harry’s right side, while he reached for the doorknob through the clear field of vision on his left side (ambidexterity was one of the first skills he had struggled with when newly knighted, but the glasses’ ability to use both or either sides to relay information had been a huge help in overcoming that obstacle).  He opened the door to a breath of London-fresh (that is to say, not very) air.  The newspaper was, as per usual, not in the caddy, but a few steps into the street, so Harry pulled his robe about him while stepping out.  No one else seemed to be mobile on the ground yet as he picked up the periodical bundle, but a flurry of movement on the second floor terrace about number 14 caught his left eye as he was turning back to the house.  

“Ah, here he is now.” Harry murmured lowly, barely moving his lips out of habit, not that he actually thought someone would see him talking to himself - or that he wouldn’t claim ‘alley cat’ if asked.  He slowed his return to the house to a stop, making a show of stretching his arms above his head and across his chest to give Merlin ample time to catch his face and run facial recognition while the man in question sipped from a mug on the terrace above.  He hadn’t seemed to notice Harry yet, staring off into the sky taking deep, measured breaths between sips, so Harry continued to watch his jawline and biceps flex with the steady lifting of the mug.    Soon enough, the files flipping on his glasses fell to a stop on a photo of the man, although in said photo he was hardly much more than a boy.  It was him in a 

Royal Marine’s uniform, approximately 6 years prior.

“Gary Unwin,” Merlin read aloud, despite Harry’s ability to read it for himself.  He’d once told the Scot he preferred to hear his burr to distract him from how disappointingly dull the dossiers tended to be.  Everything sounded better in an accent.  Well, almost everything. “Known associate of Mr. Baker, seems Mr. Baker moved in with the boy and his mother, a Michele Unwin nee Knightley, a few years prior to the birth of their daughter, a miss Daisy Baker.  A few arrests for small crimes associated with the estates life where they lived at the time….and still do, it seems.  Both men have the estates listed as their last known, even though Mr. Baker controls several properties.  There is a record of Mr. Unwin attending a trade-based construction school, although it seems he dropped out early.  He could be renovating the new asset for Mr. Baker.” 

“Perhaps.  He was receiving a delivery at the same time I received mine yesterday from BCD.”

“Ach. So it’s  _ that _ kind of interest.  Would you prefer I stay at the manor?” Merlin asked.

“Merlin, I am not now, nor have I ever, asking you to forgo our home together. I haven’t even spoken to him, he might not even be interested.” Harry and Merlin may have been in an open relationship for years, but Harry’s increased libido was typically handled through working honeypots, while Merlin’s decreased libido was hidden beneath his erratic work hours.  Occassionally they would take an outside partner for some short-time entertainment, sometimes even together, but always with the other’s knowledge, and both always willing to stay at the manor or make use of another of their properties when necessary.  The mews, though, was their main home, and Merlin had already been away for almost a week since bringing Harry home.  He wouldn’t ask him to stay away.

“Harry, don’t be such a daft git.  You know exactly what you look like.  Unless the lad’s dead, which he doesn’t appear to be, he’ll be interested.”  Merlin’s eyeroll was practically audible.

“Well, dearest, as much as I do love the way you flatter me,” Harry smiled at Merlin’s huffed breath, “I should let you get back to Bors.  It’s been nearly ten minutes now, so I’m sure he’s got itchy fingers again, and it seems I need to get dressed for a walk.”

“Bors will keep for some time, he’s sleeping now, but we’ll talk later, love.  Pet Mr. Pickle for me.” 

“Of course, darling, and I’ll even make sure I wear the watch you gave me for our anniversary so you’ve got my GPS and vitals.”

Merlin merely grunted something that sounded like, “If only you’d be so kind as to do so regularly,” before disconnecting the line, and Harry finished his mock-stretches determining he was indeed intact enough to indulge in a brisk walk through the park.  He swung his gaze up to the balcony again, hoping for another glimpse of the man’s torso, but he must’ve finished his drink while Harry had finished with Merlin, as he was no longer there.  Taking another deep swig of the air, Harry felt his lips curl into a smirk as he strolled back into the house to change into some excercise pants.  

****

It wasn’t more than 30 minutes later before Harry set foot back onto the cobbled stones in his running shoes.  He took a moment disguised as readjusting his trainers to glimpse over at number 14, but there was still neither movement not light.  A few of the other homes, however, had their upstairs bedroom lights shining a bit as the people inside began to rise, so Harry quietly made his way out of the alley and onto Gloucester Road, swinging his arms back and forth a bit to encourage the blood flow.  It had been nearly three weeks (with one of those in a coma courtesy of that unfortunate explosion) since his last real calisthenics session, and his muscles were quivering in anticipation of being able to move about again outside the house.  As a force of habit, his steps were well-measured and nearly silent, so he was able to pick up quickly the sound of rapidly-approaching foot steps as a jogger came up to and past him, barely returning his acknowledging nod. 

Harry tried not to huff at the indignation of not being able to really challenge the woman’s pace.  As he got on in years, Harry found the tedium of recovery after each injury stretched itself just a bit longer each time, no matter how hard he fought it.  He was sure, however, that he could make it back to full duty prior to Morgana’s ‘best case scenario’ of four weeks.  That would place him at a total of six weeks out of duty; Harry had never remained out for that long, and didn’t plan to start this time.  Picking up his pace to a brisk clip, he turned onto Stanhope Gardens and continued along until he reached the gates.  Glancing to the right and left, he saw that no one was around to witness him vaulting over the spiked arch as he usually would, but his arms pulled a few (All right, more than a few) tender muscles along his ribs and abdomen, so he continued around to an unlocked one where some punk had scribbled his or her “tag” as they called it.  Grimacing against the mere thought of how the youth was turning to defacing public property these days, Harry swung the gate open as silently as its creaky hinges would allow, and let himself onto the park’s walkway, turning to ensure the gate’s latch closed behind him before starting out on the path.  The air was marginally cleaner here, thanks to the trees and grasses, but the added scent of pine needles decomposing was not enough to deter Harry’s thoughts as it typically would.  

Harry really hadn’t walked in the park as much since Mr. Pickle’s passing almost 15 years ago, but he did jog or run past nearly every morning during his regular routine.  Typically on the way home, so that he could have slowed to a more sedate pace and take advantage of the cleaner air to drag into his lungs after dodging early-morning commuters in the streets.  They tended to remind him, albeit briefly, of the few times he and Merlin had holidayed in one of the Scot’s ancestral homes in the Highlands.  Today, all he could think about was the lumber that could be made from these trees.  What sort of construction work did Mr. Unwin do?  Harry would have to find out, so that he could perhaps find something in the house that needed repair, as a means to extend an invitation.  He and Merlin were both very capable of doing most handiwork themselves (training to be on solo missions required a certain amount of dexterity and perfunction with a varied set of skills, and handlers had to be able to walk their agents through the same steps), but certainly something could be found to offer the man - Harry could be  _ very _ resourceful when the matter called for it.  And this lackadaisical health leave absolutley did so.

Completing a mile was a bit taxing, but Harry kept pushing himself for a few more laps until the sun started to peek between the buildings surrounding the Gardens, when one was busy constructing plans to engage a target.  Harry could come up with at least ten different scenarios to necessitate bringing a handyman into the house, depending on the man’s skill level, but the opportunity to engage this Mr. Unwin without his file and background info (or a handler twittering on in his ear) was becoming even better-sounding than yesterday. As he rounded the halfway point in his second mile, he could feel a sheen of sweat begin to form on his brow, and committed himself to finishing out the second half of it before returning home.  It was a decision he was quickly coming to regret as his body seemed to not be so inclined as to follow his decision.  By the time he rounded another lap, his stomach was terribly queasy, and his abdominals contracted as if expecting a punch to the gut.  He could feel a large triangle of sweat dripping from his shoulders down the center of his back, and his hands were becoming a bit shaky.  He knew Merlin would still be monitoring his vitals via the wristwatch, so he justified stopping at the next park bench he came across; not to give himself a rest, because an agent would be able to push through, but to ensure Merlin didn’t have too many blaring alarms on his side to worry about.   Wouldn’t do to have Merlin distracted at work.

Willing his heart rate to go down, Harry closed his eyes and strained to hear the birds fluttering about as they prepared for the sunrise to full take effect over the blood pounding through his ears.  The traffic a few blocks over was still quite sporadic, only a handful of people needing to be up this early, or perhaps returning from a late-night shift.  His blood pressure must’ve been higher than he realized, because he hadn’t heard anyone approach before someone was asking him, “You al’right there, guv?”

Harry’s eyes flew open at being startled.  A pace away from him stood the unwitting principal of his daydreams, looking down at him with a concern furrowing his face.

“Ah, yes, sorry, just dozed off for a bit.  Fresh air, and all that.” Harry responded with a bit of an embarrassed laugh, waving his arm as if to dispel the notion of his incapacity.  It took an enormous amount of effort, though, to move his arm, and it pulled on his ribs a bit so he couldn’t help the minute flinch he hoped the man wouldn’t see.  

“Well, I’ve passed ya three times already doin’ laps, and ya haven’t moved.  Bit creepy, mate. ”  His raised eyebrow did wonders for his cheekbones, Harry thought before replying, “Yes, my apologies for unsettling you.  I’m just getting over an injury, and I think the exertion taxed me more than I had anticipated.  Thank you for waking me.”  The way the boy’s unconvinced face melted into one of concern was a thing of beauty, Harry decided.  This was a face meant for the movies.  Harry stood slowly, compelling his legs to stretch to their full length despite their protest.  He’d not lose any more face with this gorgeous creature.  As he reached his full height, he noticed the boy’s eyes narrow a fraction before crinkling into a smile.  

“Well, then, no harm done, yeah?  D’ya live nearby?” He asked, and Harry finally took note of the cockney bleeding through.  Dear Lord, another accent.  MErlin would probably tell him he had hearts in his eyes.

“Quite.  My name is Harry Hart,” he offered, extending his hand to the young man, pleased to feel a bit of calloused skin against his when his hand was met in a strong grip.

“Gary Unwin, bu’ my friends call me Eggsy.” He offered, followed by a “Don’ ask.” at Harry’s bemused smirk.

“Well, then, Eggsy, it’s been lovely meeting you, but I think I should head home.  Wouldn’t want to dally and cause a scene again once people start coming out to enjoy this sunshine.” Which, he belatedly noticed, was almost fully risen.  He must’ve been asleep for at least half an hour before ‘Eggsy’ had found him.

“I could walk ya?  I’m not far from here either, and got a bit of a late start, besides.” 

“I should be ok, but I would love the company.  Would Stanhope Mews put you too far out of your way?”  He asked, tilting his head a bit and giving him what he hoped still looked like a hopeful face despite his body’s apparent willingness to fail him. 

“Actually, ‘s perfect. I’m working and staying in number 14.”  His face lit up like a Christmas tree, Harry thought to himself, and images of himself in a ridiculous Santa-fantasy came to mind.  Down, boy!

“Wonderful!  I’m in number 11.”  Harry was grinning as well, and gestured to the gate closest to them.  “Shall we?”

“Sure, Harry.” Eggsy replied, “Y’know, I’ve only been here a couple weeks, but i’ve been wonderin’ about number 11.  14’s cute an’ all, but it’s always the houses at the end that seem to have all the cool stuff inside, yeah?  Bet ya’ve got all your original crowns and all?”

Harry’s face scrunched up a bit between amusement and concentration.  “I suppose so.  I inherited the property from my mother after she passed, and never really paid attention to the mouldings.  Merlin might know, he does most of the paperwork.  What is it that you’re working on, if I might ask?” He slid ahead carefully, his longer legs only protesting mildly at their suddenly longer stride, and gestured ahead of himself to let Eggsy pass through the gate first as they exited the garden proper.  

“Oh, I’m remodelin’ it for some new tenants.  M’ stepdad lets me stay in his new properties for a month or so, ‘s long as I do the renovatin’ for free.  I don’ mind, love the work.  ‘Specially these older houses around here, ‘m kinda a sucker for cobbled stones.”  His face had darkened a bit at the mention of his stepfather, Harry noted.  

“Well, you must love the mews, then.” Best not to broach the unhappier aspect of his comments, yet.

“I really do!” His voice was back to bubbly, and Harry could’ve had whiplash if he’d let himself glance away for even a moment, but his eyes were too busy roaming Eggsy’s face to find interest in his surroundings. “Where I grew up was a newer home, and it was ok, but like, I really think it’s beautiful to see these buildings that were built years ago, before machines even, by people’s hands, and they’re still around, y’know?  Nice to know there’s some permanence in a job well done, something that could go down along the generations, yeah?”

“I supposed I’ve never thought of it that way,” Harry considered. “In my family, homes have been passed down for generations as a matter of fact, not much pomp and circumstance to the process.”

“Well we weren’t all born with a silver spoon up our arses, y’know?”  The cheeky bugger  _ winked _ at Harry, deflecting the edge to his sharp words.  “Us common types have to each work for what we’ve got, and even then it’s not much to leave behind.  M’dad died in the Royal Marines, and all I had left of ‘im was this medal.”  He pulled his collar aside to reach into his shirt and retrieve the medal in question.  When he pulled the chain out, an Elizabeth Cross hung at the end, although it seemed the ribbon must have faded away.  “And if my mum were to go, well th’ only thing I’d be gettin’ from her would be my sister.”

“I am so sorry for your loss, Eggsy.”  Harry offered, but the boy merely shrugged.

“‘S been a long time, he passed when I was small.  It’s water under the bridge, as they say.  And I hope my mum’s not goin’ anywhere anytime soon, so I still have her, and my Dais.  The most beau’iful flower in all o’ London, she is.”  His pride radiated off of him in waves.  Obviously this man loved his family with his whole heart.  “Well, here we are.”

Harry was stunned to see that they had already arrived at his own door. Perhaps he should have a lie-in, as it was moderately troublesome that they had travelled three blocks without Harry’s paying attention to his surroundings.  He felt an uncharacteristic desire to not be alone and wondered how he could spend some more time in the company of this man with the beguiling eyes.  “Eggsy, do you usually go running in the park in the mornings?”

“Almost every day, right around 6 unless I’ve got my Daisy-girl wif me.” 

“Well, would you be amenable to my accompanying you?  I have just started back with Physical Therapy after my accident, but I should be back up to speed within a few weeks.  If you were also at the Gardens, i’d know i had someone looking out for me, so to speak, if I wouldn’t be interrupting your routine too much?”  He put on his best “timidly-hopeful” face.  The very same one that Merlin referred to as The Tiny Tim.

Eggsy rolls his shoulders forward a bit, and then sways his whole body back a bit to roll up on the balls of his feet, as if gently pushed by a wave.  “Well, Harry, I would be very ‘amenable’ to your proposition,” he drew out the pronunciation of each of the syllables, chidingly copying Harry’s accent, “If you’d be amenable to accompanying me for tea afterwards?” Here he had straightened himself back to his full height (a tantalizing few inches shorter than Harry’s, which sent his head spinning a bit with all the possibilities that could offer), and taunted Harry with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

Harry held his hand out for Eggsy to shake.  “Eggsy, I would be delighted to do so.”

Chapter 3

By the time Merlin called him after supper, Harry still couldn’t stop himself from grinning like a loon, and his husband had no qualms about calling him on it.

“Yer besotted with the sonsie boy, already?” He asked.  

“I’m not a teenage girl, Merlin, I simply had a good time this morning when he walked me home.”  Harry tried to sound unbothered, but Merlin was used to his husband’s nuanced emotions.

“Ach, so the handshake outside our door wasn’t you looking for a bit of hand-holding, then?”

Harry’s face didn’t flush (his blushing days were LONG gone,) but Merlin smirked to himself a bit as he noticed Harry’s heart rate waver on his tablet.  

“I got a present for you while you were out.”  Merlin continued, the ever-present tapping away at his keyboard sooting Harry’s excitement the longer they conversed.

“And what have I done to deserve a present?” Harry asked him.

“Ye havenae done it yet,” Merlin crooned into the microphone, “But if ye’re a  _ very _ good lad for me, I migh’ just let ye have it.”  The tech wizard didn’t need the high-definition cameras throughout their home to see Harry’s pupils dilate and his nose flare at the deepened brogue and application of theor codeword.  He knew  _ exactly _ what his husband needed, and the fact that they’d been separated from each other for so long with Harry’s mandatory bedrest so long a part of it was approaching Harry’s unstable point.  Joking about the hot neighbor boy aside (because Merlin may have a limited sex drive, but he could very well see and appreciate a thing of beauty any day), Merlin knew that Harry would need some regulation before sending him back out with his latest obsession.  “I’ll need ye to go to your room, first.  Can ye handle the stairs a’right?”

Harry scoffed softly.  “Of course I can.” His intonation was borderline insoucient, and Merlin needed Harry to be in his peaceful mental space, not sassing his husband about.  

Harry didn’t reply.  He silently walked to the base of the stairs, and held the railing lightly as he ascended, near silently.  Once he reached his bedroom, he toed his house slippers off, and stood at military rest facing the mirror near his closet, where he knew Merlin kept a camera aimed at their bed for these sorts of situations, and just for watching Harry sleep occasionally.  Harry’s brow quirked a bit, as if to say,  _ Well, I made it, just as I said I would. _ Merlin let it slide.  

“I’ll need ye to strip down to just yer pants, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes maintained contact with himself in the mirror as he removed his jumper, shirt, and undershirt.  Each item folded in half and draped across the vanity chair to his side without looking at the items.  When he reached for the button holding his slacks, however, his gaze fell down, despite the fact that the both of them knew he didn’t need to look to complete the task.  Once he had folded the slacks and placed them with the other clothing, his belt centered on the top of the pile, Harry left his head hanging, eyes downcast.

“Harry, luv, why won’t you let me see you?”  Merlin asked him.  Playing shy was not Harry’s typical  _ modus operandi _ , but this was also the first time he had been placed on such a long leave.  Added to that Merlin was stuck at the mansion while Bors worked his deep-cover mission (which had necessitated bringing in Percival to offer assistance, and a whole other background, persona, and set of documents and storylines), and Harry was probably very out of his element.  Harry relished control, and having himself resigned to what amounted to a polite house arrest must be maddening, coupled by his body’s small rebellions like the impromptu nap that morning.  Merlin had monitored him with the CCTV on his tablet while simultaneously guiding Bors through some harrowing code-cracking.  His agent should’ve been able to patch him in easily, but this particular megalomaniac had been a paranoid bastard who only used his own networks and servers, and Merlin had had to walk Bors through several series of prompts to enter the company’s mainframe, only to find that the information they had been counting on being present was not accessible from that particular location.  Bors had retired for the night back at his cover’s apartment, and Merlin had jumped at the opportunity to reach back out to his husband.

“I find myself feeling ... unsure.”  Harry answered, and Merlin was stunned for a moment.

“Why do you feel ‘unsure,’ luv?” was his reply, a sincere question in his tone.

Harry’s answer was still directed downward, but he continued to enunciate well enough that the sound carried through clearly when he replied, “I did not think I would miss you this much.”

Merlin was very confused now.  “We’ve spoken every day, sometimes several times a day, and usually ye’re asking me to stop; I know I haven’t been home much this past week, but this is no longer than many of the missions ye’ve been on, Harry.”

Harry’s shoulders fell forward a bit into a slump, and he pressed the big toe of his right foot into the carpet just a tad harder than the rest of the his foot as Merlin watched.  On anyone else, the movements would have been indiscernible, but MErlin knew how Harry prided himself on his poise.  These moves, whether deliberate on Harry’s part or not, were conveying the level of stress that Harry was feeling, and Merlin was more than a little worried at how easily he was falling into a sub space after that morning.  Harry took a deep breath in and held it for a three-count before replying. 

“I know, but I did not realize that it would be so difficult to have you so close, but not be able to see you.  I would not take you from work just to see me, but I also cannot go in to see you whenever I like.”

_ Oh. _

The sound of Merlin resting his weight back into his chair carried through the connection.  “Harry, is it that this boy has you wound up, or is it that you need me?”

“A bit of both, I think”  Harry’s resigned answer came through, and Merlin could hear the weight in the words.

“Harry, I think that taking yourself for a walk was a very good thing today, but admitting that you miss me was very hard for you to do, but makes me very proud of you.  I would like you to have your present now, but only if you think you can continue talking to me.  Can you do that?”  

Harry’s head nodded briskly as he answered, “Yes, sir!”, and his eyes peeked up from under his brow to look into the mirror, waiting for his next prompt.

Merlin smiled.  

“Cheeky. Go on and choose a toy from the top drawer, and lube it up.” Merlin waited for Harry to stop squirming before he continued.  “I know that ye’ve been missing me, an’ I’ve been missing ye, as well.  I cannae come home, but I thought maybe you could tell me what it is about this boy that’s got ye so twisted?”

“I think it’s his jawline.  It twists about and flexes with every expression he makes.”  

“Oh?”  Merlin purred. “ I love your shoulders.  Touch your shoulders for me, Harry.  Imagine us there with you, me kissing my way down your left side, nipping at your carotid.  Pinch yourself for me, Harry.”

Harry did, groaning softly before continuing to trail his fingers down his left arm.  

“But that boy o’ yers, I bet he wouldn’t keep his hands off of ye either, would he?  Seein’ you laid out there like some wanton slag, just waitin’ for someone to pump ye full.  Bet he’d tease ye, Harry.  He’d lean in real close to ye so ye could smell his skin, but ye’d be reaching to kiss air because he’d not kiss ye yet.  He’d just blow lightly into your ear, maybe whisper somethin’ dirty to ye.  What would he say Harry?”

“He’d tell me that I was a cocktease.  That I shouldn’t be lying here doing nothing while he waited.”

“Ooch, he’d be right.  Run your fingers through yer hair.  I bet he’d love to feel how soft it is, watch how it curls around his fingers like it’s trying to pull him in.  I bet he’d even know how much you like to have it tugged just a bit, wouldn’t he?”

Harry shuddered out a deep breath and nodded.

“Tell me Harry, what would Eggsy do next?”

“H- He’d tell me that I had better be ready for him.”

“And are ye?  Did you go out this mornin’ with yer plug still in?  Show me.”  Merlin demanded.

Harry shivered at the timbre in Merlin’s voice before using his hands to shove his pants down to his ankles and then fling them away from the bed.  He pulled his legs up, and then spread his knees, exposing his ass to the mirror.  

“Ye ARE a slag, aren’t ye?”  Merlin whispered, in awe.  His husband, so needy that he kept himself prepped for any chance encounter.  Some day soon he’d have to come home unexpectedly and take advantage of that, but right now was about Harry. 

“Harry, I need ye to tell me.  Would Eggsy rip that plug out of ye, and plunge right in?  Or would he work you?”

“He’d make me work for his cock.  Oh, I’ve seen it through his trackies, Merlin, almost as long as yours but wider.  He’d tell me that just being wet wouldn’t be enough.”

“Show me, Harry, show me how you’d earn his cock.”

He watched, mesmerized as Harry reached back behind his shoulder to retrieve the dildo he’d left there.  He dragged it across his face in a silent pantomime of a dick dragged teasingly across his lips, chasing it with his mouth, but then also moving his hand back so that it was just far enough that he couldn’t reach it but for the tip of his tongue.  

“Please,” he begged his phantom lover, “Please, let me taste you.”

“Ye asked so prettily, Harry, surely he wouldn’t deny you?”

“No, he’d only move a tiny bit closer.  Just enough to tease me like he says I teased him.  He’d pin my arms to my sides with those thick thighs of his so that I couldn’t touch myself.”

Harry shuddered, keeping his left arm against his side while the right continued to pull the dildo in and out of reach for his mouth.

“I ken ye can reach it, Harry.  Do it, take him in.  Show him how hot and wet yer mouth is for him.”  

Harry craned his neck at an impossible angle, and pulled the dildo out of his hand with a strong suck, and continued to suck it in until it was halfway down his throat, and made him gag.  He coughed it out a bit but caught it with his teeth and sucked it in again, rolling his tongue around it and giving occasional rapid-fire sucks.  Merlin hadn’t even noticed, but Harry had slid his right arm down to mirror his left, pinned to his side where his fists clenched with the desire to stroke himself.

“ _ Harry _ , ye’ve got to let him in.  Let me take out that plug.  Let him fill you up.”

Harry shook his head back and forth, the dildo wagging precariously, and Harry’s ass clenching around the plug.

“C’mon now, ease it out, just a bit.”

He looped the ring at the base of his plug with one finger, and gave it a half-hearted tug.  

“He wants to be inside ye.  Ye hafta let him in.  For me.  Pull it out for me,”

Harry  _ whined _ , but slowly pulled out his plug, still attempting to deepthroat his dildo.  

“Let me see it.  Show me that pucker, Harry.”

Harry spread his legs further, holding them aloft in the air, hips bucking up against a ghost.

“Do it, Harry, put him inside ye!  Do it!”

Harry grabbed the dildo and shoved it fully inside himself, striking his prostate on the first thrust. 

“YES!” he shouted.  “Oh, god, Eggsy!”

“Yes, Harry do it!  Take his dick!”

Merlin watched as Harry set a gruelingly slow pace for himself, overly sensitive and avoiding his prostate.

“Nae, nae, nae, Harry, he’d have you cumming by now, a thick boy like that pounding into yer arse?  Take it, take it like he’d give it to ye!”

Harry adjusted his angle to hit his prostate almost every time, and sped up his thrusts until his hand was nothing more than a blur. When his other hand reached for his dick, hard and practically purple against his stomach, Merlin crooned, “Yes, Harry, let me stroke ye off.  Come for me, for  _ us _ .”

And with that, Harry shot off like a geyser, the spray getting as high as his face.  Merlin gave him a moment to compose himself and retrieve a cleaning cloth from the nightstand.

Once he had cleaned himself up, Merlin talked him through peeling the sheets from the bed, and getting a duvet from the linen cupboard.

Once he had tucked himself in, Merlin offered, “I wish I was there.  We could coory up instead of me having a kip here.  Ach, well.  Are you ready for your present, Harry?”

Harry grunted into the crook of his arm where it lay fallen across his face.  

“ _ That _ wasn’t my present?”

Merlin flipped the switch on the device he held in his arms and watched Harry’s eyes widen and then crinkle in joy as he realized his pillow was getting warmer, and softly playing a live feed of Merlin’s heartbeat.  It was as close to cuddling in bed as they would be able to have for some time, if that day’s bollocksed mission was anything to go by, and Merlin was glad he hadn’t’ waited until their anniversary to surprise Harry.  The gift had taken him months of tweaking during Harry’s long-term missions, and it was somewhat ironic that now he was stuck away from him, as well.

“This….this is amazing!  Can I move it?”  he asked, practically thrumming in the bed.

Merlin chuckled.  “Of course, get cosy with it.  I’ve one of my own, and I’m holding it in my arms in the bunk.  I can hear how excited your heartbeat is.”

Merlin watched Harry slide his pillow to his back, as if Merlin were spooning him, before wriggling about a bit and then trying it lengthwise in front of him, where he draped his arm and head across it as if lying on Merlin’s chest, mirroring Merlin’s position in his bunk in the underbelly of the mansion.  Harry’s eyes drifted shut, and Merlin wriggled his arm around his pillow to zoom in on Harry’s blissed-out face.

Merlin set the alarm clock, then propped the tablet against the wall, so it was as if Harry was lying across the mattress.

Merlin breathed in, and listened to Harry’s heartbeat slowing down into a more sedate pace.  Even though they were miles away, he felt a similar warmth down in his soul at the peaceful silence between them.  He had always loved that, even though they could (and did, sometimes to his consternation) talk about anything and everything, Harry and he also could have peaceful silence in each other’s company.  There was no need to fill the air with the sounds of their own voices at all times. 

After a few minutes of increasingly slower breathing and heartbeat cycles, Merlin finally heard a mumbled, “Love you, Merlin.”

He stroked the screen of his tablet along the side of Harry’s face.

“And I love you, Harry,” he whispered back, but knew that Harry would still hear him.  He waited a few more minutes to make sure Harry was fully asleep before allowing himself to drift off.

Chapter 4

When he awoke the next morning, Harry was relieved to see the clock was just turning from 03:59 over to 04:00.  Merlin’s heartbeat was still steadily pulsing in his pillow, although it was only warm where his face had been pressed into it, so there must’ve been some sort of safety feature.   _ Just like Merlin, _ Harry thought to himself,  _ always looking out for me. _  When he rolled out of his bed, he was pleased to note that some of his muscles ached only minutely, and it did not hurt his ribs as much to stretch as it had been.  Harry grinned to himself as he remembered last night.  While Merlin hadn’t been there to actually hold him, he had come damnably close, and the resulting slumber seemed to have been just what Harry’s recovering body had needed.  

Harry slid from the bed, and padded over to his vanity to retrieve his clothing before continuing to the master suite to begin getting ready for the day.

After depositing the previous day’s clothing in the laundry hamper, he stepped into the bathroom to begin drawing the shower.  As he listened to the pipes bump about behind the wall while they pulled the hot water from the heater, Harry began to wonder if plumbing could be a way to invite Eggsy into the home.  Perhaps he’d know of a way to reduce the awful clanging about the pipes performed each morning.  Harry knew that no neighbors had ever complained about the noises in the early hours, but he still felt as though the racket was an affront to his profession.  What sort of spy raises such a cacophony for a simple shower?  Surely there was a way to eliminate it.  

Taking an unusually long time in the shower, Harry scrubbed his skin until it shone bright pink.  He made sure to scrub under his nails, and then massaged his shampoo thoroughly throughew his tangled curls.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to prepare himself to meet someone.  He wanted to show Eggsy a better version of himself than the bump-on-a-log version he had presented the previous day.  

After he had finished cleansing himself, Harry wrapped a towel around his waist to complete his “beauty regimen,” as Merlin called it.  He went through the process of shaving and oiling himself perfunctorily, his routine perfected over several years (not decades, mind you) and as natural as breathing at this point.  Afterwards, he wandered down to the kitchen to set the kettle on to heat while he waited for Merlin’s call.  He was debating what to eat (sausage might make him a bit….bloated, but was just toast enough?  Maybe Eggsy would like to break his fast when they went for their agreed-upon cuppa, and would Harry be able to eat again?)  when Merlin chimed his glasses. 

“Toast and a poached egg, Harry, and only one cuppa.”  Came Merlin’s greeting.

“Watching me again, darling?” Harry asked, turning to retrieve a pan to do as he’d been bade without argument.  

“No time to watch, I’m afraid.   _ Bors, he’s about a click further North by Northwest, if you stay within site of the trees you should be fine. _  Bit busy, today.   But I know what you have planned for today, so I know that you’re either standing in the kitchen in your robe trying to decide which breakfast food will make you more appealing, or you’re in the closet trying to find something more fashionable than the trakkies you wore yesterday.”

“Kitchen.” Harry agreed, dispensing water into a pan to simmer for his egg.  “And I was hoping you’d let me borrow your ROTC sweatpants for today’s excursion?  I’d like to bring you along, so to speak.”

Merlin made an “Mmm-hmm,” noise that Harry chose to take as an affirmative.  He’d already decided to borrow one of the Scot’s undershirts to wear later in the day so that he could smell him, but Merlin typically would encourage that so he didn’t think he’d really mind.  “Busy already, darling?”  he asked.

“Uch.  I’m sorry, luv, but I’ll have to cut our chat short this morning.  Hopefully I’ll be able to call later.  You’ll message me if you need anything?”

“Yes, yes, of course.  Go on and save the world.”  He pantomimed shooing away the thought of keeping his husband on the line like some desperate housewife.

Merlin disconnected while mid-rant, and Harry smiled to himself sardonically.  He had what promised to be an entertaining morning in front of him, for sure, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit put-out about not being out in the field causing Merlin’s hackles to rise.  He knew he had nothing to worry about from Bors, or any of the agents for that matter.  Merlin was a demi-sexual, and while he was fiercely protective of his agents, only he and Harry had the sort of relationship that allowed for anything beyond professionalism and friendship.  It was more that he wanted to have Merlin’s voice in his ear throughout the day instead of just a brief check-in to see if he was still within his allowable lead.  

Deciding to focus on the opportunities rather than the regrets, Harry finished fixing his breakfast and sat down to eat it, scrolling through his news feed on his mobile.  The weather seemed pleasant enough, the meteorologists expecting the day to range from a cool 13 degrees up to a manageable 21.  It seemed Harry would be needing a few jumpers, and maybe even a few pairs of casual slacks to wear since he’d be stuck at home.  He wouldn’t need to wear suits every day, and since he hoped to be seeing more of Eggsy, he thought something more laid-back might make him more comfortable.  The only problem was, he was not supposed to go into the shop, so he couldn’t get anything made.  He’d have to buy something off-the-rack, and tailor it himself from home.  

After he’d cleaned up from his breakfast and returned the dishes to their respective cupboards, Harry found that he still had ten minutes before he was due to meet Eggsy.  He returned upstairs and changed into his workout clothes, humming a nonsensical diddy, then went back downstairs to fetch a water bottle and put on his trainers, continuing the tune.  When he sauntered out the door, he came face-to-forehead with his neighbor’s smirking face, and his heart skipped a beat thinking about how close he’d come to kissing him, if not for his reflexes. 

“Well, good mornin’ Harry.  Had a good rest, did ya?” the cheeky boy asked him, leant against the wall beside the door. 

“Why yes, Eggsy, I did.  And how was your rest?” Harry asked him, a smirk of his on forming.

“Well, I slept a’right, I guess.  Ya ready to go?” he asked, pushing his foot against the wall to propel himself forward.

“Absolutely.” 

They strolled out of the mews at a sedate pace, Harry shortening his stride to compensate for Eggsy’s.  They talked about the weather moving toward cooler temperatures as the seasons changed, and this time Eggsy jumped ahead to open the gate for Harry.  In fact, to Harry’s great amusement, he jumped  _ over _ the gate, tines and all, in a smooth leap before swinging it open and dropping into an exaggerated bow.  

“That was impressive, Eggsy!  How did you learn to jump like that?” he asked him as he entered.

“Used ta be in gymnastics, when I was in second form.  Stayed for a few years after me da passed, but I gave it up a few years later.  Cost too much fer me mum, yea?  When I was bored, I’d climb around the estates.  Started out on the stairs an’ railin’s and the like, then moved up to jumpin’ between levels.  ‘S how I started in construction; a repair man saw me on the way in, and I climbed up to watch ‘im from the balcony.  He saw me an’ let me in, and he’d send me to fetch the tools from his truck if he forgot ‘em.  Liked it when I climbed up the side of the buildin’ and all.  Worried me mum a bunch when she found ou’, so me mates and I took to running about town looking for other stuff to climb.  Pre’y soon it became more about the running, and we just climbed on the run.  Found out a few years later they call it Parkour.”

Harry had trained for years before he’d been able to land a jump like that one, and this man talked about it as if it were something ordinary. 

“Eggsy, that is nothing short of amazing.  Do you have a place you go to practice?”  Harry asked.  He’d love to watch him run a course, and record it for Merlin to use for training.  Or their personal video collection.  Harry wouldn’t object to a life-sized poster of Eggsy’s ass and legs flexing as he leapt over the gate hanging in their bedroom.  Or perhaps their bathroom, to make cleanup a bit easier.  

“Nah, the beau’y of it is ya can do it anywhere.  In fact, the more ridiculous the place, the be’er.”  He grinned.  “But enough abou’ me, you feeling ok to start?  I could go slow if you want, keep pace for the first few laps?”  

“No, no, my dear boy, please, go ahead with your own workout.  I think I’ll just try to jog a bit and make sure that everything holds up alright.”

And so Eggsy jogged off, increasing the distance between himself and Harry steadily, but turning around to check on him every few metres.  Harry gradually increased his pace until he could hold steady at a jog for a whole lap around the loop.  He slowed down a bit for the next loop, then jogged another full loop.  Eggsy was waved along each time he approached to pass, until Eggsy had built up quite the fetching sheen of sweat after twenty laps, and Harry grew slightly shiny and short of breath around his twelfth.  They both walked another full loop together to cool down, and Harry followed Eggsy to a Nando’s a few blocks from the park.  

“I didn’t realize that Nando’s had a breakfast service?”  Harry asked Eggsy as they approached.

“They don’t,” he smiled, and leaned in as if whispering to a co-conspirator, “at least not here.  But my mate Jamal worked at the one in Gatwick Station, and they did a killing there.  When he moved out to this one, he made a deal with the manager to try it out for a month.  If they do well like we all know they will, they might keep it up!”  

“And if by some miniscule chance it doesn’t take off?” Harry whispered back, leaning over closer to the man, where he could smell the fresh sweat and his soap.

“Jamal’s gotta clean the toilets for a monf.”  Eggsy laughed “But it’ll be great just wait ‘til you try it!” 

They kept up the banter through choosing a booth, and only hesitated briefly when the waitress came to take their orders.  Harry, having already eaten, decided to go light and requested the hearty porridge with berries, while Eggsy requested a Chicken and Herb omelette.  As soon as the waitress had turned her back on them, they began chattering away again, discussing anything from Eggsy’s early life in the estates (again, with a noticeable lack of information about his stepfather) to Harry’s potted herb garden on the terrace.  Harry agreed that, while he had greater square footage in his flat, Eggsy’s current renovation offered a much more suitable placement for a terrace garden.  Harry was just explaining to him what sorts of herbs would probably work best when their waitress returned with their meals.  Harry had grown up with a wide variety of dishes prepared by cooks from around the world, but the porridge in front of him had to be one of the most tantalizing things he’d ever had.  The tart berries with the honey drizzled over them were divine.  And Eggsy was moaning over his breakfast, as well.  

“‘S so goood” he groaned out around the food in his mouth, already hurrying to scoop up another bite.  “Told Jamal, ‘s a goldmine.”

Harry tried to focus on his food, and not the way his pants were becoming a bit tighter as he swallowed to reply.  “This porridge is quite good, and your omelette smells delicious.  I can smell the fresh parsley, that was one of those herbs I was telling you about.”

“MMMMMmmm”  Eggsy mumbled before gulping down his mouthful.  “Harry, I’ll let you try mine if you let me try yours?”

“Beg pardon?” Harry replied.  

“Here,” he said, cutting of a chunk of his omelette and holding it over the table in front of Harry’s face, “You try mine, and I’ll ty yours, yeah?”

Harry couldn’t seem to reconcile the boy’s words with his face.  He appeared innocent enough, and perhaps Harry was just reading into it, but it had almost sounded as if the boy had propositioned him.  He leaned forward slowly and opened his mouth as Eggsy moved the loaded fork towards him.  He moaned as the cheese and parsley played about on his tongue, joined by the tomato.  

“Right?!” Eggsy asked. “Alrigh’, now do me!”

Harry looked once again at the boy’s face.  Still cherubic.  His lower half must be getting the better of him.  He dutifully scooped up a spoonful of porridge with a berry and honey atop, and leaned over the table to offer it to Eggsy.  Instead of taking only the tip of the spoon into his mouth, or even pulling the oats off with his teeth, the boy captured the entire bowl in his mouth, wrapping his lips around the neck.  Harry could feel the vibrations of him pulling off the mixture with his tongue, and swallowing before he pulled back off with a tight suction, leaving not a speck on the spoon.  

“MMMmm, yours ‘s good, too.  Sweet.”  He even pulled his bottom lip in under his teeth to suck off some last morsel of sweetness before letting it roll back out, moist and shiny.

“Yours was excellent as well.  Very….fresh.”  

After that, Eggsy steered the conversation back to more neutral (less loaded) territory.  Harry had asked if Eggsy did any plumbing work, and had found out that, happily, he did.  He would be busy between number 14 and another property that week, but told Harry he’d be more than happy to take a look at his “haunted pipes” over the weekend.  

After they paid (Harry insisted on paying, as Eggsy was doing him the great service of accompanying him), they took their time walking back to the mews.  Harry once again found himself wanting to keep Eggsy nearby, but was at a loss for how to do so.

“So, I had fun.  We’ll do it again tomorrow?” Eggsy asked him in front of his door.

“I had fun, as well.  And would love to do this again tomorrow, if you’re still willing to put up with me while I’m still slow.”  Harry’s body felt sluggish, but his heart was racing watching this charming boy’s face light up.  

“Don’ be daft, ‘Arry.  I’ll see ya tomorrow.”  And the cheeky thing  _ winked  _ before turning around and strolling back across the mews, leaving Harry watching his ass sway back and forth.

Chapter 5

The next few days continued in much the same manner.  Harry would wake up, get ready for his day, check in with Merlin, and then go for an excursion with Eggsy, followed by breakfast.  By the fifth day, Harry had worked himself up to running two consecutive laps alternating with a single jogging lap, and happily kept pace with Eggsy for most of their time in the gardens.  

As Harry’s stamina increased, so too did Eggsy’s flirting.  And Harry was sure now that it  _ was _ flirting because he had asked Merlin to observe one of their “dates” by wearing his glasses to breakfast one day and recording the entire interaction onto his private server for Merlin to review later.  Merlin had checked in the next morning near laughing at Harry’s inability to see the boy’s efforts.  

Harry had merely retorted that he’d seen others visiting Eggsy, at all hours of the day and night, it would seem, so how was he supposed to know for sure?  His visitors ranged from friends of his mother to his mates (including Jamal of Nando’s fame), and the boy didn’t seem to have a type.  He acted the same with all of them.  Merlin had laughed again, telling Harry that he really should be able to identify it better, as honeypots were one of his specialties.

Today, though, Harry was brimming with excitement, and it had carried over into his run and breakfast with Eggsy.  Today, he was scheduled to check in with Avalon, in person, to determine his level of ability to perform.  Harry knew he couldn’t pass the tests yet (he knew that Morgana planned for him to be out for at least another 3 weeks), but today would be the first day he would get to see Merlin in two and a half weeks.  He was rather hoping for a good snog on the man’s couch.  Or desk.  Harry wasn’t too picky.

After Eggsy delivered him to his door, Harry had rushed to ready himself to go to the manor, suiting up into his gentleman’s armor once more.  He strolled out his door when the taxi arrived, umbrella dangling from his arm as he stepped around the door the chauffeur held open for him, only to be brought up short by a wolf-whistle.  

“Pre’y fancy duds, there, ‘Arry.” Eggsy called down from where he stood shirtless on the upstairs terrace.  Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath before responding.

“Thank you, Eggsy.  And might I say you are looking quite fetching, as well?”

His laughter bellowed out.  “Oh?  This old ting?”  

Harry smiled, and waved goodbye before climbing into the back of the cab, only to be eye-level with his husband.  

Harry nodded while trying not to smile.  

“Galahad, glasses, if you please, sir.”  Merlin tapped a few buttons on his tablet to prompt the windows to darken, and the partition to roll up.  He waited until both functions had completed before telling Harry,  “They’re set to the home server now, as are mine.  I thought you might want to see this later.”  And Merlin reached across the cab, grabbing Harry by his lapels firmly enough to pull his body forward into his own, but gently enough to not crush the fabric.  

“I’ve been watching you make moon-eyes at that boy for days, now, Harry.  Days.”  He whispered against Harry’s jaw.  

“Days of watching you touch yourself, thinking about that boy in your bed.  In our bed.”

Harry whimpered, longing for Merlin to touch him, but afraid to push him in the dangerous mood he seemed to be in.  

“I ken what ye need.  I need it, too, lad.  But, we cannae here.  After your checkup, come to my office.”

Harry could only nod his head in acquiescence, he’d do anything to get his hands on Merlin.  Merlin guided him to sit back in his seat, and smoothed down the fabric on his breast.  Harry’s breath hitched a bit at that.  They arrived at the shop shortly, and walked together into the fitting room.  The store wouldn’t be open for several hours, so they didn’t have to worry about remaining inconspicuous for customers.  

As the lift descended, Harry fought his urge to wring his hands at the frustration he felt.  15 days without his husband’s touch, just the ghost of his heartbeat in their bed, and now he was right here, and still Harry was being denied.  This was so much worse than a mission, just absolute torture to his body.  He wasn’t even hard, he just needed to make contact.

S-O-O-N Merlin tapped out on the tablet behind his back.  Harry huffed out an impatient breath.  

The lift reached it’s destination, and the men walked and sat in tandem inside the shuttle, remaining quiet during the half-hour ride to the manor’s underground.  They were met at the station by Morgana herself, who greeted Harry warmly.

“Galahad, you are looking quite well!” she gushed. 

“Yes, Madam, I have been adhering to your guidelines quite stringently.” He returned, smile plastered on his face.  

“Well, then, this should go very smoothly, shouldn’t it?  Thank you, Merlin.”  she dismissed the quartermaster, and gestured for Harry to accompany her to the medical ward, presumably to her office.  

Silence reigned once again for Harry as they clicked down the hallways, her steps almost double his, but they did reach the wing housing her office quickly.  For the next four hours, Harry was poked and prodded, and had numerous scans performed, during which Morgana remained silent.  At one point, Harry was even put through the treadmill stress-test, which he felt very confident about in his performance.  She accompanied him to the shooting range, as well, and had him perform numerous tests throughout the facility.

Finally, as they neared four and a half hours, Morgana led Harry back into her office.  Harry waited for her to seat herself before sitting, watching her carefully for any sign of her determination.  The woman could give the field agents a run for their money in facial expression neutrality.

“Well, Galahad” she started, looking concerned at her notes before back up at him, “It would seem that the time away from the manor has done not only our nursing and PT staff well, but you, also.  I am loath to admit it, but I think you might -  _ might _ \- be able to return sooner than i had earlier anticipated.  Your scores are well within the acceptable range, and there seems to be almost no swelling left, but you will need to be careful with your ribs.  They will take months to fully heal.  Therefore, I’m recommending you finish out the week at home, and report in Monday to Arthur for modified duty.”

Harry’s white-knuckle grip on her office chair loosened at that.  Finally, he could come back to Merlin.  Perhaps he could offer to help with Bors’ mission so that Merlin could finally come home again.  Maybe he could even introduce the two of them in person.  He was sure Eggsy would love Merlin.  Merlin already seemed to approve of Eggsy, so that didn’t worry him.  How to do it, though….

“Unless there’s anything you’re not telling me, Harry?” Morgana asked him.

“Not at all, madam.” Harry assured her.

“Well, then, you are free to go.  Glad to have you back.  Merlin’s been a bit of a beast without you.”  Harry smiled. 

“I suppose I haven’t fared much better.  Thank you, Morgana.”  He bowed slightly to her before taking his leave.  The walk to Merlin’s office was not a long one on any given day, but his current anticipation level made it feel near-interminable.  He didn’t even need to knock before the door swung open, and then shut after him automatically after he entered.   Merlin was just debriefing an extraction pilot on his way back to the base before handing off the mission control to another handler next door.  Harry remained by the door while Merlin finished his conversation, just closing his eyes and breathing in the scents of his office, the smells he had been missing so much in their home.  

“Harry?”  Merlin asked concern evident.

“I’m alright.  Are you done?”  He asked, eyes still closed.

“Aye.  Until Bors lands in 6 hours, I’m all yers, lad.  The locks are engaged, cameras are down, and my safe room awaits.”


End file.
